


An Interlude in Velaris

by hellomiho



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Crown of Midnight Celaena, after Nehemia's death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomiho/pseuds/hellomiho
Summary: “Great, another broken female? Are any of you going to declare she’s your mate?”Freshly devastated by the grief of Nehemia's death, Celaena accidentally enters the portal when trying to contact Nehemia in Crown of Midnight and finds herself in the ACOTAR realm.





	1. Chapter 1

_“If Cain could do that, and if Celaena could use the marks to freeze the catacombs creature in place and permanently seal a door, then couldn’t marks open a portal to yet another realm?” (Crown of Midnight, p.309)_

* * *

 

The faint outlines of a shimmering figure slowly began to come into existence and Celaena felt her fractured heart shatter once again. She didn’t feel the blood still streaming from the cut in her arm but the thought of seeing Nehemia’s face again made her feel _as if she would bleed to death from the pain of it._

_She felt the warmth of her tears before she realised she was crying. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say. “I’m so sorry.”_

Utterly overwrought with grief for yet another person she had failed (" _You are nothing more than a coward"),_ Celaena instinctually moved towards the figure. As her foot crossed just millimeters past the blood that marked the edges of the portal, she saw only the horror in Nehemia’s eyes before everything seemed to whip past her in a dizzying array of flashes.

And then everything was black.

* * *

 

Mor strutted through the halls; no matter how many years passed, there was a small part of her that wanted to shrink into itself upon re-entering the aptly named Court of Nightmares. But she refused to let her past define her, and so, even alone, Mor strode down the hallway with a smirk, her dress trailing behind her like a scarlet flame.

The clicking of her heels came to an abrupt stop as the path in front of her was blocked. An unconscious woman lay in front of her, as if she had been unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. A puddle of blood bloomed from beneath her, tainting the bottom of her golden hair, and Mor felt her breath escape her.

The next second, she was kneeling in the chilly blood that immediately coated her bare legs in a sticky layer. Without so much of a thought, she gently scooped the woman into her arms. Through the thin fabric of the woman’s clothes, Mor felt hard ridges on the woman’s back roughly brush against her arms and her mouth tightened into an even grimmer line. Her eyes filled with a cold fury, Mor winnowed from the Hewn City.

* * *

A thunderous ache unlike any she had ever felt before pounded into her skull, and a heavy fog of pain trapped Celaena in her mind, unable to move or talk despite her best efforts. Yet, even in her state, she felt the shape of a woman holding her, and she desperately focused on that one pinnacle of warmth.

“Great, another broken female? Are any of you going to declare she’s your mate?” A dry, otherworldly voice spoke.

A sharp chorus of “Amren!” and a snarl were all she heard before she succumbed to the darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics were quotes from Crown of Midnight pgs. 309/311. I also included a short quote from Dumbledore (...bleed to death...).


	2. Chapter 2

Mor gripped the unconscious girl’s arm, light emanating from her hands as she coaxed the torn skin to knit themselves back together. She had seen and healed much worse injuries than this, ones that required her to dig deep into warm, gushing flesh, and yet she fought to keep her fingers from trembling.

“I found her in the Court of Nightmares like this.”

Despite Mor’s steady voice, Rhysand heard the underlying tension and let Mor continue to focus determinedly on the girl. When Mor had rushed into her bedroom with the woman lying limply in her arms, Rhysand had followed, his wounds be damned. And when Mor searched her body with an almost clinical frenzy, he had seen the remainders of numerous woudns littering her lithe form. The scar-ridden canvas of her skin had reminded him of that of an Illyrian warrior except half of the scars had not been those of a warrior. They had been scars of a slave. 

“We’ll have to question her when she wakes,” he said and Mor nodded. She had brought this unknown woman into their most private headquarters and despite her injuries, they had to know she wasn’t dangerous. Or at least, that was what the rational part of her mind said.

“Whoever did this will answer for it,” Rhys declared but Mor didn’t seem to be listening to him anyway and he quietly saw himself out. 

There was something about the woman’s face, the way her golden hair framed her face, her frown as if she couldn’t find peace even in her sleep, that caused Mor to reach out her hand. Just a hair’s distance separated the two of them and in a moment of weakness, Mor almost let herself caress the woman’s cheek before she clutched her hand to her chest. 

There was no telling what this woman had been made to endure and she would not add to the list of acts performed against her without her consent. 

With a final onceover of the newly healed arm, Mor left the room and joined the others at the table they were gathered around. 

“She smelled half-Fae. Does she remind you of any Families in the Court?” Cassian asked, but both Rhys and Mor could only shake their head.

“No, but I’ll find and kill whoever did this to her,” Mor declared and although other people knowing her past might have looked at her pitifully, her family, the people she loved only solemnly nodded in agreement. 

“Besides, she’s fully human. Her ears are round,” Rhys said darkly, and this announcement caused a ripple of outrage to break out. That a Family had tortured and enslaved this woman was already an act worthy of execution, but that they had dared to bring a human into the Court of Nightmares… 

The inhabitants of Hewn City were there because they still subscribed to the ancient city’s bloody and ruthless traditions. Humans had no place in that city, with their all too vulnerable bodies and susceptibility to deception, which was why Rhys had outlawed them in the early days of his reign. 

“It might be that she’s spent her entire life in the Court. Years spent trapped underground can change a person. The smell of the Fae may have settled into her bones,” Azriel quietly said, and they all fell silent even as Amren continued to look unsatisfied at this answer.

* * *

Celaena woke up on a bed with a softness that rivaled the plush comforts of her bed in Adarlan, but it did little to comfort her. She had been so close, so close to seeing Nehemia and yet once again, she had failed. 

A raging sadness threatened to overwhelm her but she quickly forced it back. There was no time, no luxury for such emotions. She had to figure out where she was.

For having travelled to a different realm, Celaena felt surprisingly springy and filled with energy, no longer feeling the cut she had made on her arm. 

Despite her alert state, she forced her breathing to become slow and rhythmic in a feigned sleep as she tried to gather what she could of the room she was in. She carefully placed the smell in the room. The breeze brought with it a pleasant smell of jasmines and she surmised that there was an open window nearby. Judging by the warmth, she had not presumably changed seasons in her interdimensional travel.  

Based on that brief haze of consciousness, there were at least three or four people in this place, people who had seen her. What was their purpose? Who were they and what did they want with her?

Celaena quickly rationalised that her mysterious hosts wouldn’t have healed her and put her in this bed if they were out to harm her. But still, she didn’t like being in this position where she knew absolutely nothing of the place, the entire realm she was currently in. She was at a disadvantage and she had to get out of here fast. She needed to go back. 

Finally sure that no one was currently in the room with her, she opened her eyes and saw that there wasn’t so much of a window as there was just an opening in the walls framed by gossamer curtains. Carefully slinking over to the opening, Celaena found herself looking over a verifiable mountain and felt her heart drop. Well, that was no longer an escape route she could use, at least not with any equipment. She would have to venture out of the room. 

With the trained ease that years spent training under Arobynn had given her, she silently escaped from the bedroom and searched for a way out, keeping to the shadows. 

If she weren’t in an entirely new realm, Celaena would have appreciated the gorgeous architecture; the palace was all towering pillars and open halls filled with that same jasmine scent she had woken up to.  

As it was, she ignored the coloured glass lanterns around her and continued on her way when she suddenly heard the low voices of people. 

Celaena let out a curse underneath her breath and spun around to find a different path when she suddenly found herself facing a man who had seemed to melt into existence from the shadows around her. 

Letting her instincts take over, she smashed one of the lanterns near her against the wall and held the jagged remains to his neck.

She heard the clearing of a throat behind her and her head snapped towards the sound even as she kept her arm steady against him.

There were two Fae and two winged male, the likes of which she had never seen before. To further her shock, she saw the male she had just been threatening suddenly materialise in front of her, standing next to the others. She looked back to where her hand currently held the serrated glass threateningly against empty air and felt her arm drop to her side.

She was good. Celaena knew she was good. But a group of warriors and Faes, all of whom looked like they had experienced more than their fair share of battles… There was no way she could take them on. Even if the male in front looked like he was barely standing up with still healing gashes in his wings ( _‘So they could be hurt,’_ Celaena mused).

Besides, she didn’t know what the winged males were or what they could do and she had long since learned never to go into a fight without knowing her opponents. Not to mention the male who looked Fae but also had wings (what _was_ he?). She would have to decide her course of action in response to their reactions. Of course, that didn’t mean she was dropping her only weapon though.

“You’re up!” the blonde Fae said cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just found Celaena threatening to kill her friend, “I’m sorry. You must have been frightened waking up in a strange place. But I promise you, you’re free now.”

Her warm words meant nothing to Celaena as she continued to take in everyone’s appearances. The wings looked real, for lack of a better observation, like they were part of the males’ bodies and capable of taking flight. Did it have something to do with the dark one’s teleporting powers? Could they all teleport, was that just something the people of this world could do, or was it just him?

“My name is Mor and-”

Celaena suddenly found herself being whisked away by the shortest female Fae, and without a second thought, she slashed harshly with her makeshift dagger. Red blood poured from the gash in the female’s arm but she showed no sign of loosening the iron grip she had on Celaena. 

She was unceremoniously dumped into a chair and she barely restrained herself from attacking the Fae again, when the Fae sat across the table from her. 

They were in a room alone, the door closed. 

Instead of attacking like her baser instincts urged her to, Celaena quickly adopted a relaxed posture, leaning back into her chair. If this was how they were going to play, she’d beat them in their own game. 

“Who do I smell on you?” The Fae asked directly, her unworldly, silver eyes boring into Celaena’s own eyes as she gave a sniff. 

Celaena felt her heart stutter at the motion; she was smelling the blood that ran through her veins, the blood that marked her long, illustrious lineage. She had forgotten how heightened Fae senses were. But of course, there was no way she could know who she was. This was an entirely different realm. There was no way. 

Betraying not even the slightest sign she’d been flustered, Celaena responded breezily, “And here I thought it was my dazzling personality that interested you.”

The female let out a bark of laughter that seemed both at odds with her soft-toned voice and in congruence with her bearing. She bared her canines, “I like you.”

“Shame I can’t say the same about you,” Celaena responded unapologetically confident, like she wasn’t being interrogated in a strange place by an even stranger being. 

“Who are you? Where are you from?” she commanded.

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”

The blonde assassin could have gone for hours like this, evading questions, but there was something about the female that said she could go on questioning her for years.

“Lillian” Celaena finally gave in, falling into the persona she had created and lived in during the past year. 

“Lillian,” the Fae repeated, saying her name like she was savouring the taste of each syllable in her mouth and the blonde could tell that they both knew it was not her true name.

“Well, Lillian,” she said, drawing out her name in particular, “you can call me Amren.”

Amren then lazily waved her arm and four people abruptly stormed into the room. 

“I SWEAR AMREN, IF YOU HURT HER-” Mor yelled, a terrible fury consuming her beautiful face, until she laid eyes upon the unhurt blonde. 

“Are you okay?” She hurriedly asked, sliding into the seat next to Celaena. Mor’s arms moved instinctively to embrace her but the Fae clasped her hands to her lap instead, staring deeply into her eyes. 

Mor’s eyes were a deep brown, shining as if a light as bright as her personality lit her up from within. There was a compassionate, understanding depth to them, and Celaena recoiled. Because even despite their contrasting physical appearances, there was something in those eyes that reminded her of Nehemia.

A flicker of hurt crossed over Mor’s face as she noticed Celaena’s flinching and Celaena turned away, remembering the last time she had seen Nehemia’s dark eyes ( _You are nothing more than a coward.”)_

“I’m sorry about Amren. You don’t have to tell us anything until you’re more comfortable and I promise you are free now. You can stay for as long as you need, and if you want, we can help you go wherever you want.” 

And Celaena could do nothing but nod mutely, her voice robbed from her.

* * *

 

“Can we really trust her?” Rhys asked as he gently stretched his wings with a wince, already looking distracted as he mentally made a list of places where he might find Feyre. 

“No. But you can read her to make sure,” Amren replied dryly before Mor interjected.

“No! We can’t do that to her! How will we be different from the monsters who enslaved her?!” Mor looked around to the others who still seemed a bit wary- Feyre had become a welcome addition to the dysfunctional Inner Court but who was to say Lillian would? She was a complete wild card with absolutely no ties to them. They needed something, something that showed that she wouldn’t turn on them in a split second.

“I’ll take full responsibility over her,” Mor declared and she felt the weight of her words fall over everyone.

“Anyone who can get the jump on both Azriel and Amren deserves to stay,” Cassian finally cracked, elbowing Azriel in his side with a smug grin before smirking at Amren, "You're getting slow in your old age."

Amren directed a serpentine smile towards him, "Fast enough still to neuter the dog that you are."

Stiffly turning to Rhys in a practiced show of indifference, Azriel smoothly asked, “She stays, then?”

“She stays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now, the ACOTAR realm is set in the time period where Feyre hides in the cottage, having just found out that Rhys is her mate in ACOMAF (~pg 441). I’m changing it so that they’ve already finished checking the Illyrian war camps and are back at Velaris. After being hurt and healed, Rhys winnowed Feyre and himself to Velaris and then Feyre left. 
> 
> Celaena is in the House of Wind.
> 
> Miryam is the only half-Fae/half-Human I can remember but despite her human-looking features, she had pointed ears. So I’m saying that all half-Fae/half-human in the ACOTAR realm have pointed ears, which is why the Inner Court thinks Celaena is human despite her smell. 
> 
> My problem is that I always write entire outlines of stories when I’m inspired like and I plot out key events and do research to make them as close to canon as possible. And then I just never write the actual story. Well, I looked over my outline and there are some theories I have connecting the two realms (proven wrong by ACOWAR) that I still really like and want to share. 
> 
> This is going to be a rather short story (under 10 chapters) and the storyline has changed a little which is why I will be changing the title. But rest assured, there’s still going to be a lot of interaction between the ACOTAR people and Celaena.


	3. Chapter 3

A week had passed since Lillian’s sudden appearance into their lives but in some ways, it was as if she had never entered their lives at all. 

Lillian spoke to no one. She interacted with no one. Not a single sound escaped from her room and yet she was never found elsewhere in the house.

The only signs of her existence were the piles of romance novels she left behind in the home library but none of them had once seen her in the library itself. 

Mor knew nothing more than Lillian’s name, although she didn’t need her abilities to tell her that wasn’t her real name, and the fact that Lillian had been found in the Hewn City with numerous scars. There were only so many ways and reasons a human could have ended up underneath the mountains and Mor shuddered with fury to think about what Lillian must have been made to endure. 

She knew from experience that it took time before a person was able to reach out to others. Feyre, Clotho, even Mor herself had needed time to heal before beginning to interact with other people like nothing had happened, let alone talking about what had actually happened. That was why Mor had allowed Feyre to come to her first before showering her with the love that Mor’s heart was all too willing to give. 

Mor was all too aware of the importance of respecting boundaries but there was a part of her that desperately wanted to get to know Lillian, to help her, to have dinner with her, to laugh with her, to find out her little quirks, to-

But the blonde had only received two scrawled notes politely stating that she did not need Nuala and Cerridwen to attend her and that she would appreciate a fire in her room if possible.  

There had been several moments of weakness when Mor had walked back and forth past Lillian’s door, hoping to see even just a flash of the woman’s face, but all she had been greeted with was the faint smell of smoke. It was a bit early in her opinion for a fire, especially with the magic that kept the air warm, but human bodies were significantly more sensitive. 

After all, Andromache had always liked to keep the fire going even while they were in their post-coitus bliss, their bodies wrapped around each other... 

Mor felt her heart stutter at the sudden thought of the woman she had loved so very much. For years after Mor had turned her back on the human realm, thoughts of the queen had plagued her incessantly, her time consumed with groundless daydreams of what could have been. It was only after three hundred years had passed, that Mor had finally reached a tentative peace with her stubborn heart. Yet, somehow, this woman, _Lillian_ , caused those long-repressed feelings to reemerge. 

Hurriedly redirecting her train of thought, Mor found her mind returning to how Lillian had flinched upon seeing the blonde Fae for the first time. What was it about Mor that she had made the young woman physically recoil when she had, just minutes before, threatened Azriel and cut Amren without the slightest hint of fear?

And then Mor’s golden eyes narrowed.

It was time to pay her parents another visit. 

* * *

One week had passed and Celaena was no closer to returning home than she had been when she had first entered this gods-damned realm. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Her every waking hour was dedicated to searching for anything that could possibly aid her in her quest home. She spent her days cooped up in the family library that had been pointed out to her on her first day. 

She skimmed through every tome that even looked like it might contain a scrap of information on interdimensional travel, but made sure to return them to their original places without a single discrepancy. She pulled out piles of romance novels and stacked them on the ground so that anyone coming in would think that she had just been reading them. There was nothing innocent about those books (which she happily knew from experience) but they made her seem harmless and that was all she needed. She didn’t need anyone finding out about where she had come from.

When it was evening, she practiced the Wyrdmarks she had drawn for the ritual that had brought her here. It was a language Celaena was still a bit unfamiliar with, and she had no idea if the marks she was drawing from memory were actually correct, but she couldn’t afford to forget them. “Nehemia” was the only word she knew for certain and she filled countless pages with her name alone, before burning all of her work in her fireplace. 

Her two interactions with the other inhabitants of the house had been contained to two scrawled notes to the woman who had first brought her here. She couldn’t quite tell who was in charge amongst the Fae and the Illyrians (she had read about them) but Mor seemed the most sympathetic to her and Celaena had no qualms exploiting that if it got her closer to home. 

This was not her realm. She didn’t need or want to get close to any of the people in it. She’d be leaving as soon as possible and creating attachments would only be a new source of pain and Celaena had had more than a lifetime’s worth of pain. 

But right now, Celaena felt like her eyes might start melting if she had to read another page of another book that wouldn’t help her at all, and she got up from the armchair in the library. With a sigh, she rolled her neck with a satisfying crack before deciding to explore the rest of the house. 

It wasn’t really a house, with its sprawling hallways and winding staircases, and yet it didn’t feel like the palaces she knew: the palace in Rifthold, the palace of Orynth…

Celaena squeezed her eyes as if the motion would dispel all thoughts of her old home away, and when she opened them, finally sure she had locked her childhood back down into the deepest pits of her heart, she was at the bottom of a stairwell she hadn’t seen before. 

Keeping her wits about her in case she was met by any unwelcome surprises, Celaena ascended and found herself in a vast courtyard carved out from the very mountain itself. There were racks with arrays of dazzling weapons that caused her empty hands to itch with desire and there were sparring rings etched onto the ground. 

Oddly enough, there was a chaise set in the middle of the rings where Amren carelessly lounged, a hefty book on her lap, but Celaena had learned that Amren subscribed to no rules other than her own. 

Two of the rings were occupied with the High Lord of the Night Court facing off with the shadowslinger in one, and the more brutish looking Illyrian and a female Fae fighting in the other (which meant Mor was the only one missing from this motley crew). It was the latter fight Celaena took an interest in.

The male,  _ Cassian, _ moved like a born and bred warrior, his wings folded tightly to his back. His moves were harsh and ruthlessly efficient, each one causing his sweaty muscles to ripple in the sunlight, and Celaena could see that he had not wasted the five hundred plus years of his life

But Feyre, Feyre was who she kept an eye on. The Fae had arrived in the house within the past week and although they hadn’t properly met yet, Celaena had secretly watched the brunette. 

In another world, she would have liked to be friends with her. 

From what she had seen, Feyre was strong and self assured, a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Not to mention, she had Rhysand wrapped around her little finger. It didn’t take Celaena’s trained eyes to see the pure love between the two, especially when they couldn’t seem to take their hands off each other. But even still, she saw how Feyre breathed a little easier when he was near her, how Rhysand always had his hand on her back as if he couldn’t believe she was real and with him, how they communicated with nothing more than their eyes. There was a secret part of her that couldn’t contain the jealousy that arose from seeing the two of them; this was something she could never have with Chaol. Not anymore.

Celaena banished all thoughts of Chaol and refocused on Feyre. The female was keeping her own with Cassian but there was something still unpolished in her moves, like she hadn’t been fighting for long and was still not completely comfortable with her own power. Celaena could see the small mistakes that littered her form, a misplaced foot her, a faulty punch there.

And that was interesting.  

While the others had all appeared in the old history texts she’d read, Feyre was conspicuously absent without a single mention, which meant she was younger than the rest. Of course with the Fae, young could mean she was a hundred years old but there was something about her that made Celaena think she was truly young, similar in age to herself.

And since she wasn’t as skilled at fighting as the others, this begged the question of how she had gotten so intertwined with the Night Court in such a short time. What was so special about her that it merited her joining the Inner Court? 

There were so many questions unanswered and Celaena rolled her neck again. Her body was stiff from seven days filled with nothing but plush armchairs and piles of books. She desperately needed to train. 

It took but a moment for her to decide; perhaps her feet had known what she needed and directed her here. 

She knew that the others thought she had suffered as a slave for some cruel Fae family, and she had been playing into that persona, trying to make herself seem harmless and not worthy of attention. 

But as Lillian Gordaina, she had been able to be both a lady and the King’s Champion at the same time and Celaena refused to let herself become weak and vulnerable, especially in a foreign realm.  

She hopped down into the circle and saw how all of the people present turned to her in a synchronised motion.

“Could I have a turn?” Celaena gestured towards Cassian and he stared back at her quizzically. 

“I’d like to train as well,” Celaena repeated slowly and this time, he seemed to understand what she was asking. 

Cassian grinned wolfishly, “Then step right in. I’d never turn down an eager pupil, though Feyre can tell you first hand that I’m a merciless teacher.” 

Celaena grinned back at him, “I might surprise you.”

The sounds of blades started up again and she surmised that the two males had resumed their fighting. Feyre moved to the edge of the ring near Amren, and the two women stared with looks of curiosity.  

“Alright, let’s see how strong you are,” Cassian said as he brought up his sparring pad clad hands.

Celaena needed no further invitation and quickly burst into a series of jabs, hooks, and crosses with each move not seeming to end but flowing into the beginning of the next. She ended with a final, vicious uppercut before letting her arms fall to her sides. Blood was coursing through her veins and she bounced on her feet, relishing the feel of it. 

“You know how to pull your punches,” Cassian said approvingly as his eyes danced with merry surprise. He barked out a series of more punches and Celaena did as instructed, her arms pleasantly burning at the exercise.

“I’ve an idea of your strength now but why don’t we have a small match?” Cassian suggested, excited at the prospect of a new opponent. There was a small clearing of someone’s throat and he quickly raised his hands in the air, “No permanent injuries, I swear.”

Celaena nodded, already dancing away from him as she quickly ran through what she knew of Cassian. He was a muscled beast of a man but he also wasn’t human, which meant he’d be fast despite his size and wouldn’t tire before her. She’d need to get him safely within her range before she could afford to start attacking.

They spent the first few minutes, warily circling each other, throwing out careful punches that weren’t meant to attack but rather to gage their opponent’s reaction. Cassian was the first to go on the offensive, but he was also holding back in consideration for her more fragile human body; even if she had surprised him with the strength of her punches, they both knew that one well placed punch from him could debilitate her maybe permanently. Celaena batted away his fist, landing a solid punch against his collarbone that was suddenly in reach. Instead of being hurt, Cassian seemed more roused by the punch and he doubled down on his aggressive assault on her. 

One of his punches caught her in the side of her head and Celaena barely had time to register the ringing in her ears before he landed another blow to her stomach. The air rushed out of her and in order to buy some time, she ran from him. He kept his distance, allowing her to regain her bearings for a few seconds before he returned. 

Celaena knew that another hit could cost her the match and so she allowed him to come at her, hunching over her side in a show of weakness. When at last he had entered within her range, she swung her leg in a fierce kick that would have knocked out a human man. With a pure look of surprise on his face, Cassian fell to the ground, sprawled out on his back for a split second before immediately getting back up. His face was still shocked until he let out a large roar of laughter, “I knew I liked you the moment you cut Amren.”

Celaena smirked back at him, “You can talk when I’ve beat you.” 

With one last laugh, Cassian charged at her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have two more scenes in this chapter but I wanted to publish this quickly. I’m suddenly feeling very inspired for this story once again haha. There should be around 4-5 more chapters according to my outline.   
> I haven’t written many (read: any) action scenes before so I hope it was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Uni's a bit terrible rn and I keep making terrible decisions so here is this new story. It's unedited and the idea came to me today while I was once again re-reading the ToG series in preparation for the release of the final book on Wednesday. I'm so excited! Who else pre-ordered the book and signed up to get the Orynth pin? 
> 
> Anyway, I really adore both series and I was always disappointed in the lack of crossover fics. While re-reading Crown of Midnights, I was particularly inspired by Celaena's line to Chaol: "I’d travel until I found a place where they’d never heard of Adarlan." That then transformed into this idea. I do like all of the canon ships (Feyre/Rhysand, Aelin/Rowan) so it's unlikely I'll stray from them.


End file.
